Perspective
by Padfoot523
Summary: Flashback: It's the 33rd annual Hunger Games. Follow a power hungry girl on her journey through the Games, hoping to live up to the family victors before her.
1. The Reaping

**Chapter One**

 _Dung, dung, dung_.

Three bells rung throughout District 2. Three bells have one meaning and one meaning alone. The reaping has begun. One girl and one boy will be chosen to compete in an arena _to the death_ among twenty-two other tributes. Twenty-three children are brutally killed so that the victor can earn an unlimited supply of gold and glory for their district. It is terrible, horrifying, and glorious. These Games allow the Capitol to weed out the weaklings in our society, so that our country will be constructed of strong men and women.

My father was a victor during the 15th Hunger Games. My sister was a victor during the 31st Hunger Games. I plan on becoming a victor now.

"We shall now begin our reaping!" Minnie Melissa, our host, straight from the Capitol, began, "Now, let's start this reaping with the ladies!"

Minnie strutted over to the big fish bowl labeled "Ladies" and grabbed the name right on the top.

"Well let's see who we got here… Leah Arnstein! Will you please come up Leah?"

A small, skinny girl was shoved towards the stage.

 _Uh, yeah that's not gonna work,_ I thought as I watched little 12-year-old Leah trip over each stair that she tried to climb. Even when she reached the stage, she continuously tripped. _This year, District 2 will look like a failure._

"Yes… well as always, is their any volunteers?"

Leah held back tears, waiting for someone to volunteer. I raised my hand.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I called. To answer your questions, no I did not do this for Leah. I wouldn't care if it were Leah's name drawn or my little sister's. It truly makes no difference. However, this is my chance to become a victor. This is my chance to stand with my father and sister as an equal.

I walked up the stage with confidence. I looked out into the crowd with a smile. I was happy.

"We have ourselves a volunteer! Will you please say your name for us?"

"Lily Silvia," I announced into the huge microphone.

"Excellent, excellent! Well let's get on with it. I must pick a boy!" She reached into the other fish bowl and drew out a small piece of paper, "Leonardo Memphis."

Walking up to the stage was a tall, dark haired, and handsome man with arms the size of barrels.

 _Oh my gosh…_

That's when tall, dark, and handsome stepped aside to reveal a tiny, stick kid who was apparently named Leonardo. The other guy was a Capitol guard. What a disappointment.

After shaking Leonardo's bony, sweaty hand, we boarded a silver, slick train and drove off towards the capitol.


	2. The Train

**Chapter Two**

 _DOES ANYONE ON THIS TRAIN KNOW HOW TO SHUT THEIR MOUTHS?_

My sister said that the train ride was the most exciting part of the games because you get your first chance to size up the other tribute (their wasn't much to look at) and your first chance to talk to your mentor. I am one hundred percent sure that the train ride was the worst part of the games.

Firstly, my _wonderful_ mentor probably talked my ear off with stupid, trivial advice. He pretty much thought that I didn't know one end of a knife from the other. Well I did, but I'm not to sure about Leonardo.

Speaking of Leonardo, all he did was _cry_ the whole time. He seriously had no self-control. He spent the whole ride balling his eyes out about how he missed his mommy and daddy and favorite puppy that had died six years prior. It was incredibly painful to watch.

And of course, who could forget Minnie Melissa. She took the name "Minnie" seriously: little mouse ears, whisker makeup, and a little tail. She seriously went all out. Worse than her look was her mouth. I seriously sat through a never-ending waterfall of all of the latest gossip. Pentila (quite the name) cheated on Swatch with his brother, Marcel divorced with Marcella because everyone confused their names, Tinashé and Pentila had a girl fight over Swatch and his brother, et cetera, et cetera.

At this point, I have given up on all hope of entertainment in these games. I hope that the other tributes can _at least_ control themselves. I knew that I would have to ditch the Leo kid ASAP. I was seriously going to go insane if he started crying again about Mr. Wiggles, his goldfish that died when he was four. Also, I did not and still do not care about Señor Martinez (his dead iguana), Mr. Fluffy Butt (his 6-year dead dog), or Monsieur Slimy (the worm that he stepped on while getting on the train). Seriously… how can one person have so many emotional attachments to dead animals? And why did he have so many pets? One word to describe Leonardo: weird, stupid, annoying, obnoxious, whiney, tiresome, and emotional. Okay, maybe you need more than one word.

The point of this was just to convey my absolute pain. How was I facing absolute pain before the games even started? If that were already so hard, what would I be facing when I actually stepped into the arena?

As I sat contemplating the sanity of the world, Leonardo, sadly, decided to start talking again. "So… your Lillian?"

 _Why must this kid hurt me so?_ "NO! For the fifth and final time, my name is Lily. Call me Lillian again and I'm afraid you may not make it to the arena."

I became especially annoyed when he LAUGHED! Who laughs after being threatened by someone ten times stronger then them?

"You're funny! I'm glad it's you I am working with _(ha, in your dreams)_ instead of someone intimidating or creepy."

 _Hmm… it's a one sided feeling._ Would that kid ever go away? And HOW DUMB IS HE! I am NOT a cute little puppy. Unlike him, I would not fall to the level of Mr. Fluffy Butt.

"You know," I said, "I am glad that you are competing against me. I always like having someone weak to bump me up in the Games."

That kept him quiet. Well, it kept him quiet for a few minutes. He had a lot more dead animals to cry about. That was the longest train ride of my life, and the Games were just getting started.


	3. The Capitol

**Chapter Three**

Despite the obvious pain that I experienced while on the train, I realized that it was all (sort of) worth it when I saw the Capitol. Seeing the Capitol, the main city of Panem, on television was _nothing_ compared to the actual thing. There were hundreds of buildings, all several stories high, made of sparkling glass. It was like a fairytale, the light from the sun seemed to dance across the magnificent buildings.

Large groups of Capitolians (hey, that has a nice ring to it, I might have to keep using that), all strangely dressed, were excitedly hovering around the train station, waiting to see the tributes for the first time. One man was dressed in multi-colored yoga pants with a silvery jacket. To add to the bizarre outfit was a string of lights, wrapped around and around his body under his jacket. A woman nearby him had a huge pink-sequenced dress. It had a waist that extended three feet in every direction, in a way that nobody could get very close to her. There was a young boy standing with his mother, no older than seven, who had his long hair in a ponytail, dyed six different colors, and shaved on the sides. I went momentarily blind when I tried to take it all in. How had those Capitolians survived so long without at least needing glasses?

As I stared out the window, imagining a crowd of people, all with giant light-up glasses, Minnie rushed Leo and I off of the train.

"Quick!" she yelled, "We have the tribute parade tonight, and you both need to get ready!"

The tribute parade was a traditional event in the Games where all twenty-four tributes were seen for the first time after the reaping. Each district's stylist would design an outfit that would be worn during the parade to represent the district. As District Two's specialty was masonry, tributes were normally dressed in armor.

I was actually very concerned about our outfit, as I was 99.99999% sure that Leo had never worn armor in his life, and had never worn anything heavier than a t-shirt. This was NOT good, as it would reflect negatively on District Two and my chances of getting sponsors.

 _Or_ , I thought, _it will make me look_ better _, and increase my chances of being the tribute that is sponsored!_

We had finally reached the Remake Center, where we had to be prepared for the tribute parade. I was separated from Leo (at long last), and taken into a room with three Capitolians. One of them, Renalda, was completely decked out in a neon green workout suit, even though she looked as if she never worked out a day in her life. The second lady claimed that her name was Qué, though I'm not entirely sure that she was telling the truth. The third was a man, Florenzenian. I don't think that I will ever be able to pronounce her name correctly.

Renalda took me into the Remake Room first, stripping down the dirty clothes and covering me in a thin robe. The other two then came in with tweezers, waxing cream, a huge variety of lotions and body washes, and three very harsh looking sponges. They immediately set to work, plucking my eyebrows, waxing my legs, and scrubbing my body until I was raw.

"Well, well, well! That was definitely easier than last year!" exclaimed Florenzenian with a final pluck of an eyebrow.

" _Extremely!_ " Qué squealed, in a voice to high to be allowed, "District Two's tributes were _absolutely horrendous!_ You'd think that they had never heard of soap!"

"I think you are ready to see your stylist, Marcel," _(Marcella's ex-husband?)_ , "We finished much faster than we planned! However, I don't think it will be the same for the boy. Veil's team has their work cut out for them. They always think that the _girls_ are more work. Ha!" Renalda seemed very excited; perhaps she was competing to provide the best tribute. It didn't really matter to me though, I was just happy to finally get away from my tweezer-happy prep team.

The enthusiastic trio led me to a room across the hall, where Marcel sat waiting. If any of the prep team were strange, he was by far the strangest. His hair really did stay true to his name; it was flipped back in a complicated looking curl. Two-foot orange wedges changed him from four and a half feet to over six. His legs were covered in bright red way-too-tight leggings; they were so tight that I briefly thought that he had died his legs red. To add to the strange getup was a loose yellow disco shirt with orange stars randomly placed across it. At first glance, I thought that he was on fire. I never understood the Capitol's style.

Marcel pulled me into the middle of the room, and then began to circle me for a very long time, thinking.

"Well, I would like to say that you did a marvelous job on her eyebrows Florenzenian!" _(So that's how you say his name…)_ "Renalda, thank you for fixing up those legs, though they are quite red. I wonder how long that will last. Oh, and Lauren-"

"Who's Lauren?" I asked, confused. There was no one else in the room.

"What do you mean 'Who's Lauren'? That's Lauren." He pointed at Qué. _(I_ knew _it!)_

Qué/Lauren put her head down and mumbled, "My name is Qué…"

" _No_ , your name is Lauren! _Why_ would anyone name their kid Qué?" Marcel scolded, obviously annoyed.

"I just thought it was a cool name! Lauren is such a boring name…"

"Oh my goodness… you all are going to give me grey hair. Please leave so that I may situate this girl."

 _Rude much?_ I thought. _Without me, you wouldn't have a job._

My prep team left, leaving me alone with Marcel the human torch.

"Now that they're gone, it's time for you to see your outfit!"


	4. The Outfit

**Hello fellow** ** _Perspective_** **readers! This is the first Author's Note in a** ** _Perspective_** **story, and I just wanted to apologize for this late update. I have been pretty busy recently.**

 **I would like to take a moment to explain the name** ** _Perspective._** **If you have seen or read the** ** _Hunger Games_** **, you will know that Katniss is very against the games. If you (as I assume you have) know Lily, she is pro-Hunger Games. I wrote this fanfic to compare the perspectives of the Hunger Games and how these opinions affect a person.**

 **Anyways, I want to remind you that I do NOT own the Hunger Games or any Hunger Games characters. The plot line and my original characters belong to me. Thanks, hope you enjoy Chapter Four of** ** _Perspective_** **!**

 **Chapter Four**

"Are you nervous?" Leo asked me with a sweat-covered face and an expression that made him look as if he was going to cry again.

"No," _but I think you are,_ "Who is your stylist?"

"Veil. There was a girl on my prep team named Marcella. I wonder if it was the girl that Minnie was talking about!" _This place is weird_.

"Hmm… maybe."

"Who's your stylist?"

Before I could answer, the gates opened, and the horses leading our cart slowly pulled us out to the screaming crowd of weirdos.

Wait… I'm getting ahead of myself… where was I? Oh! The outfit! Well, I was left standing there in my paper-thin robe while I waited for Marcel to return with my outfit. Of course, I knew that it would be armor. As my district's specialty was masonry, it was _always_ armor.

"Here it is!" Marcel exclaimed as he waltzed pushing a wheeled outfit rack, on which hung the strangest dress that I had ever seen, "Well, go ahead and try it on!"

His tone made it sound like I should be excited about his style choice. However, as this was a part of winning the games (one of the hardest parts), I pulled the dress over my head, and slipped on the shoes he gave me. And I almost threw up.

It went down to the floor, swooshing out in an almost angelic way. It was a bronze-ish color, most likely for the purpose of fitting the 'masonry' theme. The torso was imbedded with shiny pieces of (what looked like) silver, held together in a design that looked like a wave. This may be painting the picture of a very beautiful dress. You may be thinking, " _Lily, you've gone nuts,_ ' but trust me, I haven't.

Firstly, the shoes were _taller than his own_ -that's saying something. He must have read too much Cinderella because the shoes were _solid bronze_. How was I supposed to walk in these? How? The neckline of the dress was _silver_ , the sleeves were mostly _gold_ , and the earrings that he had given me (shortly after piercing my ears-ow) were huge rose gold hoops with 3-foot diameters. It was probably the heaviest and most bipolar outfit that I have ever worn. It seemed to be asking itself: should I be gold, silver, or bronze? Should I make a fool out of Lily, or look nice? Of course, it wasn't the dress's fault; it was my stylist's. What was he trying to do, assimilate me with the Capitolians?

It made me even angrier when I walked (dragged my feet) to the cart and saw Leo, wearing the traditional armor. He was slightly surprised when he saw me; apparently our stylists did not coordinate well. As was the rest of the tributes, who were alarmed when they saw me ( _at least I'll make an impression…_ I thought). At that point, there was no going back. The cart began to move.

The tributes' reactions were the exact opposite of the Capitolians when they saw me. A lot of screaming and whooping greeted our cart's entrance, and all of the cameras immediately turned to my- well, it's not really a dress- my outfit. Within minutes, every flashy Capitolian wig had turned in my direction, and every makeup-ed eye was glued to my dress. Either I looked really cool from a distance or I looked like the weirdo that I thought I was and everyone was into it. Once again, I will never understand the Capitol.

When the cart had (at long last) reached the thousand-foot tall Tribute Center, I was more than ready to rip off the stupid dress and put on some shoes that-I don't know-were a regular height.

Our cart began to take its last victory lap around a huge fountain that closes us into the circle of spectators. As the chariot began to stop, I catch a glimpse of President Snow, an incredibly thin man with paper white hair and a look that lets you know who's in charge. He is standing so straight up on his balcony that it looks as if he has a coat hanger in his back. Snow was probably the only person that could really intimidate me, and I hate him for that. He has the kind of power that I crave. With one word he could have us all killed, as he pretty much is at this point. What a creep.

Suddenly, he looked at me, straight into my soul (I repeat, what a creep). He began to smile, and I returned the look. We held eye contact for several seconds, both sharing equally fake expressions. And then the connection was lost and I was pulled off the carriage, into a side room, and stripped from the dress that seemed weightless compared to the look Snow gave me.

Renalda, Qué/Lauren, and Florenzenian babbled on about how I was the talk of the parade, but I paid no attention. My mind was preoccupied. I could think of nothing else but the eyes that seemed to read me inside out and the expression that told me I was long dead.

 **Whaaaat?! I'm getting into this story! And I am making it up as I go along! Will update ASAP (which may be a month from now) -Padfoot 523**


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